hands of Aldurasar stretched out for ever in worship of that Power whom he had blasphemed !"

The faint lines marked by the silver crook were retraced and strengthened, and the outline drawn by Micah, became a rule of art and of devotion.

ORIGIN OF THE ETON MONTEM.*

The origin of this triennial ceremony of the Eton scholars parading to Salt-hill, is derived from monkish superstition. Friars, in days of yore, having on certain occasions, sold consecrated salt to passengers, as an antidote against the plague. Two Eton boys, in fancy silk dresses and ostrich feathers, calling themselves salt-bearers, stand on the bridge and exact money from all passengers. The King and Royal Family contribute. The King generally gives 100 guineas. The collection has exceeded 1000 guineas. The boys appoint a captain and two salt-bearers. The sum collected, after defraying the expense of a dinner at Salt-hill, is given to the flag-bearer, who leaves school for college.

THE CORONATION OATH.

The Archbishop or Bishop shall say,

"Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the People of this Kingdom of England, and the Dominions thereto belonging, according to the Statutes in Parlirment agreed on, and the Laws and Customs of the same?" The King and Queen shall say,

.6

I solemnly promise so to do."

Archbishop, or Bishop. "Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your Judg ments?"

King and Queen. "I will."

Archbishop, or Bishop. "Will you, to the utmost of your power, maintain the Laws of God, the true profession of the Gospel, and the Protestant Reformed Religion established by Law? And will you preserve unto the Bishops and Clergy of this realm, and to the Churches committed to their charge, all such rights and privileges, as by law do or shall appertain unto them, or any of them?"

King and Queen. "All this I promise to do."

* See Dugdale's Notitia Monastica.-History of County of Buckinghamshire. History of Eton College.

After this, the King and Queen, laying his and her hand upon the Holy Gospels, shall say:

"The things which I have here before promised I will perform and keep. So help me God!

THE OATH OF A PRIVY COUNSELLOR.

You shall swear to be a true and faithful servant unto the King's Majesty, as one of His Majesty's Privy Council; you shall not know or understand of any manner of thing to be attempted, done, or spoken, against His Majesty's Person, Honour, Crown, or Dignity Royal; but you shall lett and withstand the same to the uttermost of your power; and either cause it to be revealed to His Majesty himself, or to such of the Privy Council as shall advertize His Majesty of the same. You shall in all things to be moved, treated, and debated in council, faithfully and truly declare your mind and opinion according to your heart and conscience, and shall keep secret all matters committed and revealed unto you, or that shall be treated of secretly in council.

And if any of the said treaties or councils shall touch any of the counsellors, you shall not reveal it unto him, but shall keep the same until such time as by the consent of His Majesty, or of the council, publication shall be made thereof. You shall to your uttermost bear faith and allegiance unto the King's Majesty, and shall assist and defend all jurisdictions, pre-eminences, and authorities granted to His Majesty, and annexed to the Crown by act of parliament, or otherwise against all foreign Princes, Persons, Prelates, States, or Potentates. And generally in all things, you shall do as a faithful and true servant ought to do to His Majesty. So help you God, and the holy contents of this book.

FATAL CONVICTION ON CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE.

A UNITED States newspaper tells us," that a man was tried for and convicted of the murder of his own father. The evidence against him wss merely circumstantial, and the principal witness was his sister. She proved that her father possessed a small income, which, with his industry, enabled him to live with comfort; that her brother, who was heir at law, had long expressed a great desire to come into possession of his father's effects; and that he had long behaved in a very un

dutiful manner to him, wishing, as the witness believed, to put a period to his existence by uneasiness and vexation; that on the evening the murder was committed, the deceased went a small distance from the house, to milk a cow he had for some time kept, and that the witness also went out to spend the evening, and to sleep, leaving only her brother in the house; that returning home early in the morning, and finding that her father and brother were both absent, she was much alarmed, and sent for some of the neighbours to consult with them, and to receive advice what should be done; and in company with these neighbours, she went to the hovel in which her father was accustomed to milk the cow, where they found him murdered in a most inhuman manner, his head being almost beat to pieces; that a suspicion immedidiately falling on her brother, and there being then some snow upon the ground, in which the footsteps of a human being, to and from the hovel, were observed, it was agreed to take one of the brother's shoes, and to measure therewith the impression in the snow; this was done, and there did not remain a doubt but that the impressions were made with his shoes. Thus confirmed in their suspicions, they then immediately went to the prisoner's room, and after a diligent search, they found a hammer in the corner of a private drawer, with several spots of blood upon it, and with a small splinter of bone and some brains in a crack which they discovered in the handle. The circumstance of finding the deceased and the hammer, as described by the former witness, were fully proved by the neighbours whom she called; and upon this evidence the prisoner was convicted and suffered death, but denied the act to the last.-About four years afterwards, the witness was extremely ill, and understanding that there was no possible hopes of her recovery, she confessed that her father and brother having offended her, she was determined that they should both die; and accordingly, when the former went to milk the cows, she followed him with her brother's hammer, and in his shoes; that she beat out her, father's brains with the hammer, and laid it where it was afterwards found; that she then went from home to give a better colour to this wicked business; and that her brother was perfectly innocent of the crime for which he had suffered. She was immediately taken into custody, but died before she could be brought to trial.

BEAUX OF MODERN TIMES.

1. Of the Literary Beau. This is a gentleman who decides quickly and peremptorily on works of the most scientific or erudite nature. A discovery of Herschel, or an emendation of Porson, is alike familiar and puerile to him. He has great personal activity, and loves to examine all booksellers' shops. Having made his first principal visit to Hookham's, be sallies to Murray's, to Egerton's, and to White's: his pockets are stuffed with magazines and reviews, and, as a lover of high-seasoned dishes, he prefers those of the latter, in which the Cayenne and Tewkesbury mustard predominate. His reading excursions never extend beyond the pages of the Quarterly or Edinburgh Review, from which he learns the names of popular books and enough of their contents to decide upon their merits. Sometimes too he ventures to write, himself, and takes up the critical pen to the sore annoyance of all grave and sensible authors, he pounces upon his prey with the ferocity of a vulture-though, in grappling with it, he betrays the impotency of the tom-tit. Gentlemen of this description always write upon a patent mahogany desk, with a Hudson's Bay quill, carefully dipped into a silver inkstand.

2. The Political Beau is of a more harmless description; though he is equally vehement and positive with the literary one. He levels his attacks against the operations of the enemy, who do not perhaps quite so much dread his censures, as does the ministry at home, which he is in the constant habit of abusing. I have known these political Beaux declaim an hour upon the blunders of the allies, shewing how Buonaparte ought to have been taken prisoner as well as defeated.

3. The Devout Beau I would designate as the gentleman who goes to church to save appearances, and thereby to obtain the reputation of a loyal, rational sort of being. He uses his eye-glass more than his prayer-book, and smirks during the sermon, because he would not have it supposed that the preacher's admonition can affect a man of his refined stamp. He is the first to sally out of church when the service is concluded, because his time is precious, and he is apprehensive the weather may change to rain before he shall have

galloped twelve times up and down the park. Gentlemen of this description sometimes begrudge the yearly sum of a guinea for a seat in a pew, though they are never failing subscribers to Almack's, and the most magnificent patrons of French dancers, German quacks, and Italian quaverers.

4. The Operatical Beau is constantly seen at the King's Theatre, on the evening preceding the Sabbath-but never on a Tuesday, unless Ambrogetti or Bellochi should happen to appear in a new character. He sometimes condescends to pay a visit to the pit; and after uttering one' Bravo!' at the orchrestre railing, returns through the allée, and joins some solitary dowager or enraptured miss in the fifth tier of boxes. When this intellectual treat is over, he retires, agreeable to invitation, to a snug supper coterie of twenty-five: and, just as the Sabbath dawns, reaches his home and his bed. He is probably prevented sleeping, by the sound of the first church bells-" And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, and sleeps again."

5. The Theatrical Beau is seen more frequently behind than within the boxes; and generally prefers the conversation of others, to that of his own party. He can just endure to hear Kemble deliver a soliloquy, or Kean utter a sarcasm, but to sit a whole play through, is an effort beyond the strength of his faculties to bear. Few beings are more restless than these theatrical Beaux; and, what may be thought rather strange, if they reach their homes without a quarrel and its consequences, they are still more tortured than if they had been patient spectators of the entire play.

6. The Dashing Beau is a gentleman who deals in all sorts of carriages, horses, and dogs: to-day he is mounted aloft, to-morrow he is sunk below. It is of no consequence to him whether the vehicle which conveys him be square, or round, or oblong or whether his companions be grooms or dogs.

'He brandishes his pliant length of whip,
Resounding oft, and never heard in vain;'

and, in a fearless, thoughtless mood, drives from one street to another, turning every corner with due angular precisionand darts through a county, before a sober traveller in his chaise and pair has changed his first horses. This Beau is a great disturber of your sober watchmen and poor old barrowwomen, whom he is sure to dislodge from their quiet corners.